


A Steady Hand

by oneironym



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: BDSM, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, M/M, Misuse of a Sword, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Submissive Zenos yae Galvus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneironym/pseuds/oneironym
Summary: The Crown Prince of Garlemald partakes in a different sort of thrill on a razor's edge.





	A Steady Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Something that didn't make it into my other longer fic as such, but I wanted to write it anyway. Has my own WoL Riol (no relation to the NPC of the same name), but since it's really more about Zenos, you could probably imagine your own WoL in his place with little trouble? If your WoL is so inclined to indulge him.

Zenos knelt on the floor and sat back on his heels as he watched Riol test the weight and balance of the Ame-no-Habakiri. The white-haired Duskwight's motions with it were conversational but not fluent, those of a man who knew how to handle some weapons with grace, but not yet this one in particular. The Eikon Slayer twirled it carefully, and Zenos met his gaze but did not move. Briefly, he wondered just how, exactly, he had grown to trust this man this much. His dearest enemy and his most vicious friend.

By his own experience, the Garlean knew precisely how long the blade was that Riol held, and his third eye knew down to the smallest measure how far the other man stood from him. And so Zenos did not even flinch when Riol swept the blade horizontally just in front of him. The Elezen was being too careful, not being able to discern distances quite so accurately - the blade passed nearly half a fulm from Zenos’ nose. He laughed, closing his eyes; Riol took a step closer, and twirled the blade before resting the dull side lightly on Zenos’ shoulder.

Then the Crown Prince felt the sharp edge of the legendary blade caress his face, just along his cheekbone. The minute natural tremble that the other man’s beating heart sent through his limbs was still not enough to cause the weapon to cut his skin. In spite of being passable at best with a katana, Riol’s restraint was a thing to behold.

Eyes fluttering open again, Zenos slowly traced his gaze up the weapon to the slender but calloused fingers that held it. A moment later, the dragoon moved it with care away from his face, again lightly tracing the blunted edge over the Garlean’s shoulder. He could hear the sound of metal over the wool of his uniform, so quiet was the world outside of the two of them, and the Prince let his lips part ever so slightly in a contented sigh. The Ame-no-Habakiri was sharp enough that even the slow, deliberate motion cut a few strands of his golden hair.

This was pure madness, Zenos thought: placing his favored weapon in the hands of the one person he knew could truly harm him. Yet the thrill of it was intoxicating. He had gotten to his knees before Riol and made his requests willingly, trusting the other man not only to oblige him, but to enjoy this … exercise as well. 

And the Eikon Slayer did indeed seem similarly entranced, studying Zenos with his eyes half-closed. He looked surprisingly relaxed, and he licked his lips slowly as he brought the point of the sword up again under Zenos’ chin. He lowered his ice-grey gaze just slightly, to follow the careful motion of his hand as he traced the metal point along his friend’s jaw.

Then there was the faintest hint of pressure just beneath the Garlean’s chin, and he tipped his head up to yield to it. Riol would scarcely have to move the weapon an ilm to deliver a fatal wound. He could do it by accident, even. The thought made Zenos’ skin prickle with gooseflesh. Placing his life in the balance like this in the heat of combat was one thing, but this slow, delicate dance, submitting himself to his only equal - it was something else entirely.

Seconds could have passed, or minutes, or an hour. Zenos felt the point of the blade trace down one side of his neck slowly and deliberately, down as far as the high collar of his uniform would allow. Riol lowered the katana then, and they both exhaled breaths they had not been aware they had been holding. Taking a step back, the Elezen twirled the weapon again; already he seemed considerably more at ease with it. “What else would you like me to try?” he murmured and held the Ame-no-Habakiri upright in both hands.

“Kill me?” Zenos suggested, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he continued to peer up at his partner through his dark eyelashes.

“Not like this.” The Eikon Slayer’s own grin was slight but fond, and he adjusted his grip before levelling the blade such that the point was aimed directly into the Garlean’s third eye. 

“Anything, then,” the Prince replied. He shied back just a bit as Riol inched closer, more by reflex than anyone else, but took another deep breath and forced himself to relax and close his lidded eyes again. His third eye was a more durable than the other two, but the difference hardly mattered to the honed steel edge. 

Taking a fighting stance (a proper one, Zenos noted, he could at least manage that), Riol held the pose for a moment, then made a second swift cut. This was much closer to the Prince’s face than the first had been, much more carefully measured. In the intimate silence of the room, the slash through the air made an audible sound, and Zenos felt the wind of the motion stir his hair slightly. Feeling his pulse quicken, he let out another pleased sigh.

“Hmm,” Riol intoned in thought as he used the point of the blade then to brush strands of his partner’s blond hair away from his face. “If you need me to stop, just reach for the sword’s blade to touch it, alright?”

Then the sword’s edge was against Zenos’ temple again. “Yes,” he breathed, still not daring to move, even to nod.

A moment later the cool metal of the weapon touched his lower lip, and the Garlean opened his eyes. The Duskwight was watching him with intense interest, and he turned the Ame-no-Habakiri ever so slightly to nudge at the Garlean’s mouth with the dull side of it.

“Open,” he whispered.

Zenos obliged, letting his jaw relax enough that Riol could press the tip of the blade between his lips. The tremor of the Elezen’s grasp was different now, between the intensity of his concentration and the thrill of having the Crown Prince of Garlemald in his thrall. It caused the edge of the katana to begin to cut ever so slightly into the corner of Zenos’ mouth, and the Garlean closed his teeth gently on the blade in hopes of steadying it just a bit.

After a moment, Riol drove the blade a bit deeper, steel not quite scraping against the Garlean’s teeth. Zenos’ breath caught, and his eyes widened subtly as he held his partner’s gaze. The flat of the blade over his tongue was cold, and Zenos could taste the oil from the last time he had cleaned the weapon. The metal began to warm in his mouth quickly, though, especially after he ventured to let his lips rest against the steel once again. 

No, his friend would never kill him like this, unarmored, unarmed, and on his knees.

Slight pressure against his top teeth urged the Prince to tip his head back. Riol pushed him slowly, further and further, and subtly slid the point of the blade further into the Garlean’s mouth. At one point, Zenos half-raised his hands as he started to feel the urge to gag, and the Duskwight paused. Brows raised as he awaited confirmation that nothing was amiss, Riol started to pull the weapon back slightly, until Zenos hummed quietly in hopes of conveying that it was not necessary.

The Garlean took a moment to shift as much as he dared, opening his mouth again slightly to observe as his hot breath fogged the crimson honed metal for perhaps a second before it faded. With another careful sigh, Zenos relaxed his throat and leaned slightly forward onto the Ame-no-Habakiri again, meeting Riol’s eyes as he did so.

The fiery poise of the Elezen’s silver gaze, focused on him, and the magnificent sword, and nothing else in the world, sent an electric feeling through Zenos’ whole body, though he dare not move. The Prince  _ felt  _ so intensely, with nothing between himself and death but the aplomb of his partner’s hand. Tracing his tongue gingerly against the flat of the blade in his mouth, he could detect precisely where the folded steel changed in angle to taper to its razor-edge. The Ame-no-Habakiri was far too fine a weapon to wear as quickly as the other mundane katana Zenos had used and discarded, but his lips could feel one subtle nick in the metal.

Finally, he inhaled and held the breath, and Riol, biting his lower lip in concentration, pressed one last ilm of the sword past his partner’s teeth. For an eternity of perhaps a half-second, each stared into the other’s eyes and Zenos could see the same ferocity of battle in Riol’s eyes even as they held still as statues. Then the Eikon Slayer started to draw to draw the Ame-no-Habakiri back out of Zenos’ mouth again with the same measured care. Breathing again, the blond man closed his eyes, feeling the tension melting away from his body, and let his lips part slightly from the blade in a sigh. The katana was sharp enough that he had never noticed when it had cut him, but he became aware of a feeling of heat running from the corner of his mouth, mingling with the saliva he had been unable to swallow.

Once the tapered point of the Ame-no-Habakiri was all that rested on his lower lip again, Zenos opened his mouth fully, and Riol turned the sword so the sharpened edge pointed up. Not particularly minding the blood or the drool, the Garlean slid his tongue under the back edge of the steel blade, taking one last, almost reverent taste of the killing tool before Riol removed it from his lips entirely. 

“Good, I take it?” the white-haired Elezen asked softly after a moment, bringing Zenos back to the present.

The Crown Prince opened his eyes, blinked slowly, and raised a hand to wipe his lips and chin. Here he was, still breathing, his heart still pumping the blood that he could taste the corner of his mouth. The cut there stung when he licked it - he could still feel pain - and Riol, who knelt beside him, still suffered him to live.

“Yes,” the Garlean sighed, and was surprised at how deep his voice sounded. Zenos took the weapon when Riol pressed it into his hand; the hilt had been crafted to fit in his grasp perfectly, every curve of the grip so beautifully comfortable in his fingers. It was almost as though he only just now noticed the sensation of deep familiarity with the weapon. The Garlean raised his other hand to his face as he hung his head, and a breathy laugh escaped him. “I feel so alive….”

He felt a hand at his shoulder after a moment and looked up, finding still that the Eikon Slayer’s eyes saw nothing but him. With care, Zenos set the Ame-no-Habakiri aside, then took Riol’s face in his hands; they were all but trembling now that the other man was within arm’s reach. The Elezen in turn brushed his friend’s blond hair back over his shoulder before embracing him and tangling fingers into the golden strands. 

In stark contrast to the sword, Riol’s tongue across his lips was hot and soft, but also still stung at the corner where the small cut still bled. 

“Would that I had found you sooner,” Zenos quietly lamented.


End file.
